


The Wall, The Cold, And What Came Out Of It

by Bam4Me



Series: This Is More Comfortable [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dom!Tormund, Fluff, He's never been tied up before but damn does he love it, Jon is a good boy, Light Dom/sub, M/M, NOTHING ROUGH, No Sex, Non-Sexual Bondage, Non-Sexual Kink, Non-Sexual Submission, Rope Bondage, Slight hints at safewords but no actual use of them, This is non-sexual Kink, slight praise kink, sliiiiiiiiiiiiight puppy play, sub!Jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 23:59:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8467993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bam4Me/pseuds/Bam4Me
Summary: We all carry things with us out of war. No matter what that war was, it stays. Everyone carries something different, and we're all only trying to cope one more day at a time.





	

**Author's Note:**

> littlesforfandom.tumblr.com

Jon shivered in the winter air, suddenly pulled past his own thoughts at the feel of the wind chill against his far too exposed skin. He shouldn’t be out in the courtyard, not after winter has come, not when he didn’t have a scrap of protective clothing on his body. Even Sansa has taken to wearing the same clothes that the free folk favored, saying that even last winter, she had never had clothing so warm as what the spearwives -Tormund’s daughters? Maybe…- had given her when they realized that she would keep Johnna and Willa. They’ve adopted her into their culture as much as they did Jon himself.

 

This place felt more and more like home, as time passed.

 

“Do you even remember what it’s like to  _ truly _ feel cold, boy?”

 

Jon looked up and found Tormund staring at him, about fifteen feet away with several young teens, training them with a sword. Jon almost winced when he realized that Sansa would be upset if word got around of what Tormund called him.

 

There was nothing wrong with it in his mind. Tormund has always called him ‘boy’ and he couldn’t see that changing. It didn’t mean he didn’t respect him, and it didn’t mean he belittled him. Sansa did believe in a show of respect though.

 

She’s been playing the game of thrones in King’s Landing, for far too long. Jon’s not going to be the one to tell her that, though.

 

He gave Tormund a small smirk. “Feelin’ the cold now, thanks.”

 

Tormund snorted, looking far too amused. “What’s that you’re havin’ the smith make you?”

 

Jon hesitated, before realizing that Tormund’s input could actually only help them. He took the parchment off the smith’s anvil where he’d been waiting for the smithy to get back and speak with him. He didn’t mind the wait. He could watch Tormund while he waited.

 

He handed the paper to the giant, who took it with a raised eyebrow. “Can’t read, you know.”

 

Jon nodded. “I know. It’s got pictures though.”

 

It did have pictures. One of a crudely drawn ice pickaxe, and another of the same metal cleats they’d used on the climb up the side of the Wall. Tormund looked from the parchment to the smith station, and gently handed the parchment back to Jon. “You plannin on going for a climb, boy?”

 

Jon shook his head. “Planning on if we ever  _ have _ to.”

 

Tormund nodded. “What’s those jagged edges on the pick?”

 

“The weapons specialist I talked to said that teeth on the pick will hold the metal tighter. I figured, even if we’re not planning on it, having them in storage could only help us.”

 

“You tell your sister about that?” Tormund only asks because he knew she ran all the books for what they had in the castle, along with a few others. The Lady Brienne may be a knight, but she was raised a nobel, she can read and knows how to take care of a household, even if she’d never had any wish to. Sansa has many times, quoted her as a ‘saving grace for dealing with both bookkeeping and watching children.’ As much as Davos was good with Johnna and Willa, he hasn’t been reading for long enough to be of help elsewhere. 

 

Jon shook his head, looking away. “Uh, I think I’ll keep that adventure to myself. She might think it too dangerous.”

 

Tormund crossed his arms, looking amused. “It’s funny. Your sister is as strong a woman as both my daughters combined, and she’s no fool either. I think she’d probably be amused. Maybe even demand you take her the next time, as she’s demanded that we teach her the sword. If she’s like you, she’d take to it right away.”

 

Jon blinked a few times, looking surprised. “She’s asked to learn sword fighting? Who’s teaching her?”

 

Tormund shrugged. “Who else but her knight, the Lady Brienne.”

 

Tormund went back to his own training when the smithy came out now, leaving Jon to his own work.

 

Maybe, life in the capitol has changed his sister, but she’s still as Stark as ever.

 

***

 

Lord Beric was the most annoying asshole Jon has had the displeasure to be in the company of; and he had once found Tormund Giantsbane to be the most annoying asshole that he’s ever resisted throwing off the Wall before. At a point, at least. After a while, he became a little less dispensable than that.

 

Jon sighed, putting a hand on Tormund’s arm, even enough to still him, but still, the giant stopped, no longer growling at the lord, instead turned to look at Jon now. “Tormund, no.”

 

Tormund snorted. “You never listen when someone tells you no, why should I? This asshole obviously wants a fight, that red man of his can bring him back to life after.”

 

Jon snook his head, gently curling his fingers around Tormund’s wrist before he could reach for his weapon. “Tormund, a battle is one thing, but if you kill this man here, whether he’s brought back to life or not, that’s murder, and I am required as both  _ king _ and  _ warden of the north _ , to take your head for it. Do not touch him unless he touches you first.”

 

Lord Beric gave them an amused look, but it wasn’t him that answered. Sandor looked at them with what Jon could only call ‘boredom’. “Listen to the little king. You’ll be taking all your orders from him now, won’t you? Always thought the boy would have a wildling bitch if any, but a big one like you would do as well. I thought you  _ free folk _ were supposed to take orders from no man?”

 

Jon almost sighed at how utterly  _ done _ he was with these people. He was going to kill one of them, he knows it. “I take plenty of orders from him as well, Clegane, I’d appreciate it if you held your tongue and didn’t pester the one group of people in the north that would tear you apart without batting an eye at how big you are.”

 

Sandor looked over at them with a lazy frown, and Jon wondered how deep into his cups he was already. “Do you bat an eye at how big I am, Jon Snow?”

 

Jon snorted. “I stopped looking at bigger men like they’d hurt me, the day I realized that most men are going to be bigger than me. If I was afraid of  _ big _ , I’d be afraid of my own sister, and half the free folk.”

 

He was saved from listening to any more stupid from the two of them, when they heard a yell come from the courtyard, and Jon sighed, moving out of the dining hall with Tormund behind him and down the steps into the outside of the castle.

 

There, they found Podrick -Brienne’s squire as far as Jon knew- and Lyanna Mormont, out in the courtyard with the three teens that Tormund was usually found instructing in sword form with. It’s not that they’re the only teens willing to learn, but not many of the others were as good as them, and Tormund was one of the best. “Is there something wrong, here?”

 

Jon wondered for a moment, if Lyanna really would occasionally act as her age dictated -he knows he got into his own share of fights at that age- or if one of the others was starting trouble. They all seemed to be around the same age -teens- but Brienne had commented once that she didn’t think Podrick had it in him to cause trouble, so he wasn’t sure if it had been him.

 

He narrowed his eyes at the five of them, and waited for an answer. Podrick immediately looked away, a slightly embarrassed look on his face, though the others didn’t seem concerned with him. Lyanna wouldn’t be afraid of a giant if it tried to step on her, and the free folk… Jon is pretty sure he lost all chance of scaring the free folk after he risked his life - _ and _ died- getting them below the Wall and then giving them land to live on. They’re not afraid of him. They respected him.

 

Lyanna crossed her arms, giving Podrick an odd look. “Has no one taught you how to swing a sword?”

 

Podrick looked embarrassed again. “The Lady Brienne has been teaching me. She says I’m much better than I once was.”

 

One of the teenagers snorted. “You must have been horrible to start with.”

 

Podrick shrugged. “I was. I can defend myself, and I have, but I’m not very good at fighting.”

 

Jon looked between the five of them. “You know, instead of fighting with him over his sword work, you could try  _ helping _ him. I find that works best for getting him better. The Lady Brienne has more important things to do now days than teaching squires to fight, so he could use more practice.”

 

When he turned back around to go inside once more, Tormund was standing there with an amused look on his face. Jon just scowled at him. “Since when have I become everyone’s mother?”

 

Tormund grinned at him. “Since you saved a whole race of people from the Night’s Watch.”

 

“Aye, and I’d do it again, but I didn’t sign up to be the one who steps in every time the lot of you get into a brawl.”

 

Tormund didn’t look contrite in the slightest, glaring into the dining hall as the two of them passed it again. “No one asked you to.”

 

“If I didn’t, you’d have killed one of them, and I’d be forced to put you to the chopping block.”

 

Tormund shrugged. “How about telling the free folk what it is that’s not acceptable and you’d be expected to punish them for. We all know, you have no wish to harm any of us, just tell us what you would be required to harm us for.”

 

Jon paused, slowing down till he was at a large window, looking out at the courtyard. “I feel bad about that… none of you grew up under a king’s rule, none of you should be expected to live as we do. Not when I know how oppressive a king can be.”

 

Tormund crowded in near him, far too big and warm next to Jon for him to lose himself to his thoughts here, and Jon looked up towards him. “The free folk  _ chose _ Mance Rayder to lead them below the Wall, because if he didn’t, we’d all die. Mance failed, not for nothing, but he failed. You didn’t. You gave your life for us, and all you asked in return was that we fight for you to get your home back, and then you let us live here with you. We may not have land like you southerners, but we have a place to live, and we still have a war to fight. If we didn’t want you to be king, we’d have left.”

 

Jon was quiet for a minute. “Does no one  _ care _ that I never wanted to be king?”

 

Tormund did look a little sympathetic at that. He knew fully well that Jon didn’t want to be in charge. It’s why Tormund kept him as  _ not _ in charge as possible where he could. “The only man that deserves to call himself king, isn’t doing it for the title. Not the prettiest gold crown in the world, not so he can control entire kingdoms. He does it, because he’s the only one with the right idea. Getting the free folk below the Wall was the right idea, and getting us ready for the war to come is the right idea.”

 

Jon thought about that for a moment. “You don’t think I’d look good in a gold crown?”

 

“The prettiest, actually. Do you want to wear a crown?”

 

“Fuck no.”

 

Tormund laughed at that, pulling the smaller man closer and back down the hall towards Jon’s chambers, fully planning on making the other forget he was king entirely for a few hours. He knew just the way, too.

 

Jon was quiet though, somber. “It still hurts, you know. Every damn asshole born below the Wall thinks it’s some kind of fucking joke, that they’re the most clever man to say it. If I hear one more man call a woman of the free folk a ‘wildling bitch’ I might just let you kill them.”

 

Tormund felt his chest go tight at that too. He didn’t love Ygritte the way that Jon had, but she was one of the best damn soldiers he’d ever had, and they had been close. He pressed his lips to Jon’s wild curls, running a hand up and down his arm. “It will hurt for a long time, but the most important people knew she wasn’t that, and she never will be.”

 

When they were back, Tormund put a hand on the man’s shoulder to push him back to the flats of his feet when he leaned up to kiss him. “No.”

 

Jon looked shocked, and just a little forlorn at his advances pushed back. “Have I done something wrong?”

 

Tormund smiled at him a little, shaking his head. “No.”

 

He pointed to the bed though. “On the bed, no clothes.”

 

Jon rolled his eyes at the order and turned to start taking off his clothes, and Tormund stopped him with one big hand in his loose hair, giving a sharp tug that made Jon gasp and tilt his head upwards to lessen the tension between them, eyes dilated wide and breath coming in a little short. Tormund let him strain against it for a few seconds before leaning in close. “Lose the attitude, before I make you lose it.”

 

Jon felt his cheeks heating up and nodded in the tight hold, trousers suddenly too tight and needing to come off  _ now _ . “Yes, sir.”

 

Tormund let him go again and nodded. “Good. Now, I want your clothes on the floor, and you on the bed.”

 

Jon nodded, a little more enthusiastic this time at the idea of what was to come, and started stripping out of his clothes again.

 

When he was naked on the bed, he watched Tormund getting something out of a bag he’d sat next to the fireplace the night before, absenting scratching at one of the scars on his chest while he made himself comfortable on the bed.

 

“What are you getting?”

 

Tormund looked up at him with a grunt, and started back towards the bed with the bag. “Did I say you could talk, boy?”

 

Jon let out a little sigh of pure contentment at that voice, feeling more relaxed in his own mind for the first time in a long while. His eyes fluttered a few times when Tormund brought up one hand to the side of his face, not holding, but there, and pushed into his hold. “No.”

 

“No, I didn’t. Be good and stay quiet. You know what to say to make me stop.” Jon nodded, blinking his eyes back open so he could stare up at the other man with what Sansa called his ‘puppy eyes’. Tormund would never admit it, but even he had a hard time telling him no when he got those stupid eyes.

 

Luckily, when like this, Jon was more pup than man and was eager to please.

 

Jon kept quiet as he’d been told, but gave Tormund confused looks when the giant pulled out a coil of rope, and setting the bag aside again. Tormund took pity on him and gently took one of the king’s hands, guiding it over to feel the rope. It was smooth, and thin. Nothing like they used up at the Wall. This was more like what they used down in the kitchens to hang things, but thicker and softer.

 

“Got that from your sister. Of course, I didn’t tell her what I’d be using it for, but she’s smart, she probably already knows.”

 

Jon was in too deep to even be embarrassed at that, taking one end of the rope from Tormund so he could worry away at how soft it was. And it was soft.

 

He found the giant manipulating his body again, and looked down in confusion when Tormund grabbed a second coil, and set it near his legs, before manipulating them, bent a little in front of him. “Wha-”

 

“No speaking, you’re a good boy, I know you are, so listen to what I tell you to do. I promise I’m not going to hurt you, just calm down.”

 

Jon let the words relax him again while Tormund started winding the rope around and between his legs, pulling them both into an odd knot before making another of the same one. He kept going until Jon’s legs were pressed together, knee to shin.

 

Jon was a good boy, really, he was, but he couldn’t help squirming to try and see what Tormund was doing, prompting Tormund to reach up and tap him on the nose once. While Jon went cross eyed to look at it, Tormund frowned at him. “Stay still. You’re making this difficult.”

 

Jon sighed, relaxing back into the bed while Tormund went back to making the king utterly helpless where he lay on the bed. If he wanted this to stop, he knew how to stop it, but he really didn’t want to. He could feel himself floating at the sensation while Tormund used his hands on him.

 

When his legs were secured together, Tormund gently helped Jon lay on his side, much more comfortably there. He gently pulled Jon’s now soft cock out of the way of his thighs when he made a noise at it being uncomfortable.

 

Then he started on Jon’s arms, tying them from elbow to wrist.

 

Jon was too far gone in his own head to even question it. Fuck, this was the most comfortable thing in the world.

 

Tormund sat up again when Jon was finished and moved Jon up a little, pulling the blankets up and over him so he wouldn’t get cold, and moving to make himself comfortable next to him, letting Jon rest his head on Tormund’s thigh while the giant ran his fingers through his soft hair.

 

Jon was asleep in minutes, more comfortable than he’d been in weeks.

 

This might be his new favorite thing ever. He’s thinking about asking Tormund to do this more often.

 

***

 

The next morning, Jon was still so relaxed, he didn’t bat an eye once at Sandor and Beric being their usual asshole selves, and couldn’t be bothered when the teens training in the courtyard started fighting over something or another. Leaving them with a flippant, “find a way to settle this yourselves or an adult who can help you,” he had simply followed Tormund back inside, feeling a little clingy towards him for some reason. Tormund didn’t seem to mind in the least.

 

Jon was in fact, happy today.

 

Until they got a raven from the Wall, that is.

 

“Your grace! A raven has arrived from the Wall!”

 

Jon felt like his heart had  _ stopped _ in that moment, feeling a sense of pure dread at the maesters words. “Is it time, then?”

 

The maester was speechless for a second, before shaking his head. “No, your grace, it’s not about the war. They… they say they have your younger brother. They say they have Bran Stark.”

**Author's Note:**

> littlesforfandom.tumblr.com


End file.
